


Playing House

by Nika_Bo



Category: Kiwi - Harry Styles (Song), Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gay Sex, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Multi, Other Pairings - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nika_Bo/pseuds/Nika_Bo
Summary: Harry Styles decides to get a housekeeper/ chef/ PA/ general Girl Friday. At first it’s all domestic bliss. Then things get complicated.





	Playing House

Note:

I’m beginning to write this down while there is a massive summer storm thundering above outside... but yeah, nothing autobiographical in this story whatsoever. Not one tiny bit. *coughs

Started this/ had the initial idea a few days ago. After reading about the incident with the fans in Mexico but before Zayn and Gigi announced they’re back together. Can’t help but feel for Harry as I am… you’ve guessed it … out of all the possible and delightful combinations of 1D shipping combos - a ZARRY!!!! It just seems the most plausible to me and also the most delicious one in terms of sheer gorgeous sexiness of ‘em both. Hence this is a sort of triangle piece which features a.o. a ZARRY pairing. I have two possible outcomes for this and guess will write both and then you can read either both or just the one that floats your little shipper heart most.

I’ve taken some liberty with this piece like changing dates of concert tours, the World Cup final, adding basements where convenient etc.

If I’ve messed anything important up, please forgive me yet feel free to point it out to me. I have only discovered Harry Styles and 1D three weeks ago (yes, I have been living in a different galaxy until then) and am currently familiarising myself with the epic back catalogue of info since X-Factor 2010 on various media channels, while playing HS and all 1D albums on heavy rotation!!! Am also grieving that I missed out on all the 1D concert fun, (oh yeah ) the EU leg of Hazza’s tour and trying very, very hard NOT to exceed my dispo, booking a flight&tix to catch him performing in the US.

Lastly I will also mention that I am old. Older. As in Caroline Flack territory. So yeah. Not your classic 1 Directioner but crushing hard on Styles and the boys nonetheless. Epically so!!!! But, you know… in a cool way!!!

Enjoy reading!!! Feedback is always welcome!! English is not my first language!

 

***

When Hannah stepped out of TESCO onto Heath Street the air was pregnant with ozone. She could smell it, mingling with the aroma of melting tarmac and the olfactory cocktail of sweat and sunscreen on her skin. She turned left heading towards Hampstead Heath tube station and the bus stop, hoping to catch the 46 back home to St. John’s Wood before the announced deluge. The forecast had predicted heavy thunderstorms and rain in the early evening, finally ending what had been an unprecedented London heat wave with temperatures around 40° Celsius and increasing humidity for an entire week. It had left the capital exhausted, parched and near delirious, every inhabitant pleading to be relieved from this climatic purgatory. It seemed all prayers would finally be answered.

The sky was already a sinister gradient of grey, towering clouds clustering in apocalyptic formations of impending doom. The streets were near deserted, people adhering to the radio warnings to not be outside after six o’clock if necessary and of course in time to catch the World Cup Final of England versus Germany. It would be epic!!!

Hannah had spent the day swimming and reading in the blissful shade of the forest surrounding the Ladies’ Pond on the Heath and afterwards dashed into the supermarket for some dinner supplies. The shop had been almost empty. A handful of customers, decked out in football jerseys and red-white paraphernalia buying last minute packs of snacks and beers for the TV match. The only other customer had been the man now also walking up Heath Street a few meters in front of her, clad in boots, "In this heat!" a colourful, short-sleeved shirt and the skinniest pair of perfectly faded black jeans she had ever seen.

“They must feel like cling film!” she thought yet secretly admired his sartorial choices. The shirt had a bold yet sophisticated floral pattern which suggested Gucci instead of Topman and by the way it fell from his wide shoulders and clung to a surprisingly muscular back she guessed it was made of the finest silk.

They had crossed paths in the TESCO aisles and she had noticed the shirt – hard not to – and his absentminded way of grocery shopping. Waiting in the short queue she had seen him place the most random assembly of products on the till and had also perceived the weird looks the female cashier had given him. Perhaps the girl had been a bit intimidated or thought him on drugs. He had seemed a bit out of it Hannah admitted and the heavily tattooed left arm had given his already rock’n’roll appearance another edge. A soupçon of danger. Bad boy vibes. "Great ass though!"

She had just finished that thought, realising she’d been staring at the man’s behind this entire time, when the first rumble of thunder made her look up. The sky was now an ominous shade of sulfuric yellow and she should really get home before all hell would break lose. Looking ahead the bus stop sign was just a few meters away. The next thing Hannah registered was the man in front of her who suddenly stopped, swayed from left to right and then – dropping his laden plastic bags to the ground with chaotic consequences – collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Shocked Hannah picked up her pace to catch up with him while he crawled on his hands and knees to an expensive-looking car parked at the kerb and slumped down next to it. By the time she had reached him he was sitting with his back against the car door, chest heaving, a dazed expression on his face, eyes wide with fear. He was breathing irratically, clawing at his throat and whispering “I can’t, I… can’t!”

“PANIC ATTACK!” Hannah thought, familiar with the symptoms from a former employer. Kneeling down in front of him, she put down her grocery bag then reached for his arm and addressed the stranger in a soft and calming voice.

“Hi, hello. My name is Hannah. I was in the supermarket with you just now. Can you tell me your name?”

His gaze turned towards her. Green eyes, bright. Almost iridescent. Gorgeous. But unnaturally wide with fear and unable to focus. His fingers were still clawing at his neck, nails leaving angry red streaks on sunkissed skin. “Haz, Har… Harry!”

“Okay, Harry, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack which is making your heart beat frantically and is upsetting your breathing pattern. Now what I want you to do for me is to try and focus on me. My voice. My hands. Can you do that? Can you feel my hands?” Hannah had successfully withdrawn Harry’s hands from his throat and held them in a firm and what she hoped felt reassuring way between her own.

“Ye… yes!”

“Okay, good Harry. Now I want you to try and calm down a little bit. Try to breathe a little slower and deeper for me. Okay? I know your heart feels like it’s exploding right now.” She placed one hand over his heart, easy with his shirt only buttoned-up halfway, feeling the frantic beat beneath it, vaguely noticing the tattoo of a swallow on his chest. “But it’s not gonna happen. Don’t worry, you’re not having a heart attack. You’re just experiencing a sudden moment of intense fear. Which is scary but you’re not alone. I am here with you and I am gonna stay with you until you feel better. Now you just hold on to my hand like that, try to focus on the touch and keep breathing. Deep and slow. Deep and slow, Harry. Good.”

His hands were clammy and shaking in her grip, his fingers twitching but at least every fourth breath he took was slightly longer, deeper. “I… can’t see! Blurry!”

“You can’t see properly, Harry? That’s okay for now. Don’t worry about it. It sometimes happens during a panic attack. Close your eyes if you want to, the blurriness will stop as soon as you’ve calmed down a bit more.”

“People?”

“Do you want to know if there are other people around, Harry?”

He nodded.

“No, it’s just you and me. Everyone’s gone home because of the storm warning and the football match of course. So don’t worry. I’ll stay here with you and guide you through this and it’ll be fine. Just keep taking slow and deep breaths for me, okay? As slow and deep as you can. Try to ignore your racing heart. It’ll calm down eventually. Just focus on your breath and my voice and maybe think of something that calms you down. An image, a location, a person, or a song. Something that makes you feel calm and safe. Protected. Okay, and breathe, just breathe. Nothing like a good lungful of ozone-laden summer air!”

She looked at his face, slightly less panic-stricken already but still wide-eyed, gaze unfocused and worried. Her right hand was still on his chest, above his heart, gauging the rhythm and releasing his cold fingers she used the other to brush a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead, then cupped his face, thumb stroking along his cheekbone repeatedly. Caressing, calming. Harry’s right hand followed hers. Fingertips searching until they found her wrist and closed around it while she palmed his face, needing a connection, reassurance.

“Just breathe, Harry. It’ll be alright.” Her soothing was cut short by an almighty crash of thunder which had her and Harry wince in surprise. As if on cue fat droplets started to fall and Hannah could have sworn they made hissing sounds evaporating on the overheated sidewalk. “Well shit, seems the forecast was right for once.” She looked around and noticed a keychain next to Harry’s leg, the four interlocking circles of the Audi logo prominent on one of the keys.

A quick gaze confirmed the car he was leaning against was an Audi. An R8 no less. “Is this your car, Harry?”

He just nodded.

“Okay. I am gonna take your key and open the car because I want you to get inside. There’s a thunderstorm coming and we should get out of the rain before it really starts to pour down. I am gonna let go of you now to open the door and meanwhile I want you to just keep on breathing as slow and deep as you can. Okay, Harry?”

He nodded again and Hannah noticed with a pang how much he was trying to adhere to her order, to suppress his fear and panic to find a calmer breathing rhythm. She quickly pressed the remote button and the door lock beeped open.

“Okay, here we go. Let’s get you inside.”

She somehow managed to put Harry in the passenger seat, collect her own and most of his shopping – at least the items that hadn’t broken, spilled or rolled away onto the pavement – and get into the driver’s seat within a few moments before the skies opened up and released a biblical torrent of rain. She was momentarily distracted by the sheer amount of water flooding down the car windows and the noise it made on the roof. She only heard Harry a moment later.

“Hannah?” He was leaning back, head tilted against the car seat, eyes closed, still trying to bring his breathing under control. She didn’t know how old he was, at least 17 if he drove a car like that, probably in his twenties but he looked very young right now. His right hand wandered across the middle console of the car, searching for her. She grabbed his fingers and squeezed them reassuringly. “Yes, I am here, Harry.”

“Don’t… don’t leave!”

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I’ve promised to stay with you. Besides, it’s Noah’s second chance to float his Ark out there. I would be crazy to step out into that. Have you found something to calm you down yet?”

He nodded.

“Good, that’s good, Harry. So concentrate on that and just keep taking those long deep breaths. You’ll be fine soon.”

They sat for a good ten minutes, Hannah absentmindedly stroking Harry’s hand while staring at the deluge encompassing them and occasionally checking on his breathing. His expression was still nervous, body coiled tight, brows drawn together in a frown, eyes closed and lashes fluttering but his breaths were becoming more and more regular and deeper.

“So tired.”

“That’s okay, Harry. Tired is definitely better than panicking. Go, drift away to that safe place if you want to. Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up. No matter how long it’ll take.”  
“Home?”

“I don’t need to get home. No one’s waiting there for me. We can stay here. We’ll miss the final but I reckon the Germans will win it again anyway.”

“My place.”

“Your home? You want to go home?”

A nod.

“Well, I guess I could drive this baby if you tell me where to?”

“Up the road. Next to Inn.”

“Okay, Harry. Here we go!”

She put the key in the ignition, and with a turn the engine came into life with a satisfyingly deep roar. "Whoa, this baby is a seriously hot drive!" Hannah estimated that horse power and torque of this car was unlike anything she had or would ever ride again in her life.

***

She didn’t quite know how but she had driven the R8 through the torrential rainstorm, windscreen wipers working frantically, found the house, "Gated mansion more like!", managed to access the onsite parking lot and maneuvered Harry and their collective shopping bags into the house.

They made it into the building during a momentary break in the deluge, just long enough to grab the Tesco bags and unlock the patio doors which led directly into a living room area. Harry stumbled over to a sectional and collapsed onto it, curling in on himself like a little squirrel. Hannah decided to leave him alone for the moment and find the kitchen to drop off the shopping.

The kitchen was a sleek white cube off a large dining room, with a small table for breakfast, cappucchino machine, wine rack, an empty pizza carton on the hob and absolutely no food in fridge or pantry whatsoever.

“Oh dear.” Hannah emptied all the TESCO bags to figure out if there was any chance to create something edible out of their combined purchases. She was lucky and decided to ask Harry if he was hungry. He had been buying groceries for a reason after all and with the panic attack subsiding he was probably ravenous.

Returning to the sitting room she found him fast asleep, breaths deep and regular. Hannah pondered whether to wake him and ask about his appetite. Maybe she should say goodbye but then again he had asked her in the car to stay, to not leave him alone. And although he hadn’t specified a time period she still felt responsible and so decided that staying with him was still an active request, even though he was momentarily unresponsive. Him sleeping would give her a head start on the cooking.

***

Harry stirred. Hannah had watched him sleep for the past 5 minutes, feeling slightly creepy but secretly too fascinated to not look at him. Dealing with his panic attack, the thunderstorm and his temperamental car earlier she hadn’t really had the time to observe him properly but now with him lying there sleeping she could indulge in studying every bit of his beauty. And he was beautiful, gorgeously so.

  
A sharply cheek-boned face, sun-kissed skin, a strikingly sensuous curve to his top lip, with a fuller, lush bottom lip. the hue of his mouth a surprisingly intense shade of pink. Only slightly arched eyebrows, straight while pulled together in a frown, hair looking so silky she had to keep herself from leaning down and touching it as it hung across his nose and cheek. Large, luminous eyes, framed by enviously long lashes, in the most arresting shade of a light green, mixed with grey and yellow which opened slowly, drowsily, before focusing and looking up at her.

“You stayed.” He sounded surprised yet grateful, his baritone deep and burnished.

“Well, you asked me to. Earlier. in the car. So…”

“Thank you. Sorry, I fell asleep on you.” He stretched and sat up. “How long was I out?”

“A good hour.”

“That long? And you’ve been sitting here all this time, wondering if I would wake up before tomorrow morning?”

“Not exactly, I found something useful to do.”

His gaze was curious puzzlement.

“Um, I cooked dinner. And I started on your laundry. There is a cycle with your jeans running right now.”

“You did what?”

Hannah bit her lip guiltily. “Yeah, sorry, I know that was probably overstepping the line but, see, I needed to keep myself busy while you slept and after dinner was done I searched for the bathroom and opened the wrong door to the gym and found your open suitcase sitting by the washing machine and…”

She didn’t get to finish her apology, interrupted by a melodious and wholly unexpected peal of laughter. “You’ve cooked for me and done my laundry for me while I slept? That is honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me. Are you always this caring and domestic?

Hannah shrugges her shoulders. “I guess. See, I work…worked as a nanny until recently and cleaning, cooking, washing was part of the package. So…”

Harry laughed again. The sweetest, most endearingly unaffected Hahaha she had ever heard from a grown-up. “Wow. You’ve babysat me brilliantly, Hannah, thank you! I couldn’t have wished for better company. Honestly, thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. I am serious,” he added when he saw her skeptical expression. “Thank you!”

He stood up, pulled her towards him and hugged her tightly. It was an embrace that made her feel 10-feet tall. Cherished and appreciated to the very last atom in her body. When he let go of her she felt the loss, acutely.

“So, you’ve cooked for me?” His face was equal parts curiosity, delight and ravenous hunger.

“Yup.”

“How on earth did you manage that? I am almost sure I left half of my groceries behind during my panic attack. To be honest I didn’t really pay attention what I bought in the first place. I’ve just come back from LA and jetlag has been a bitch.”

“Yeah, you seemed a bit out of it in TESCO and it was all a bit random but with the combination of both our shopping it was fine. It’s just some salad, pasta and a peach crumble…”

“Peach crumble? PEACH CRUMBLE??? You made me dessert?” His bright green eyes sparkled and like a kid he bounced giddily up and down at the prospect of pudding.

Maybe only 16 after all! Hannah thought once more. It was really hard to tell how old he was. He seemed to be oscillating between an innocent child and something more mature, confident. Sexy and a bit dangerous. A classic man-child. Fascinating and intriguing in his ambiguity.

“Peach crumble. Wow. You’re my hero. I have to hug you again.”

His arms enveloped her again and immediately she felt invigorated, empowered, connected. It was the most incredible thing. Slightly addictive too. He was a fantastic hugger. Radiating and transferring energy – if someone believed in such esoteric things. She usually didn’t but there was definitely something more to Harry’s hugs and for a moment she thought about telling him.

“Shall we eat then?” He let go of her and again she felt deserted. “I’m starving!”

“Uh, you want me to stay?”

“Of course! You’ve cooked for me. It would be a massive dick move to send you home now. Besides, I like the company. Would you like wine with the pasta? My fridge is empty but I do have a few bottles of red lying around.”

“Sure, that be lovely.”

Harry walked over to the dining room and noticing the perfectly laid table shook his head before he entered the kitchen to fetch a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. Hannah followed him and was just about to transfer the pasta from the pot into a bowl when Harry stopped her. “What are you doing?”

“Um, getting the food?”

“No, no, no, no. You’re sitting down now. You’ve done enough!” He grabbed her by her shoulder and maneuvered her into the dining room. Pulling out the chair at the head of the table for Hannah he made her sit down then busied himself with the wine bottle.

“There you go.” Filling first her and then his glass generously he set the bottle aside returned to the kitchen and came back a moment later, carrying a tray with two deep plates filled with pasta and sauce, the salad bowl and a proud grin on his handsome face.

Hannah smiled while Harry set down the tray and placed a plate in front of her with a flourish. “You look as pleased as if you’d made this yourself.”

“Hardly. No, I’m just happy. Food makes me happy. Enjoying it in pleasant company even happier. Thank you, this dinner is going to be a wonderful ending to a rather unpleasant day.” He sat down next to her. “Allora signorina, un piatto di pasta a la verdure. Bon appetito!”

“You speak Italian?”

“Not really but I’ve been a few times. I pick up phrases easily and I seem to have an ear for languages.” He raised his glass. “Salute!”

They toasted and took a sip of the ruby red liquid.

"Wow!" Hannah thought. She had enjoyed enough glasses of wine in her life to know that this was definitely not a 2 for £10,-deal from the off-licence. They were at least in Grand Cru territory. Who was this kid? So far she had learned that he lived alone. In a Hampstead Heath mansion which probably listed at 2 or more million pounds. He traveled. Had a penchant for expensive cars and good wines. Didn’t bother much about cooking. Had a rock’n’roll dress style and an eclectic taste in interior design. Collected art. And tattoes. Suffered from panic attacks.

Who was he?

He dressed too edgy for a banker and not polished enough for a jet setter. He didn’t act entitled like a trust fund boy but didn’t strike her as an entrepreneurial dot.com whiz kid either. He was an enigma and Hannah was definitely intrigued yet didn’t want to be obvious by blatantly asking.

“Mmmh, this is delicious!” Harry had already inhaled half of his potion. “You said earlier that you worked as a nanny. You’re not doing it anymore?”

She shook her head.

“What do you do these days then? If you don’t mind me asking? You could be a chef. This is heaps better than most of the overpriced stuff I had in restaurants.”

“Thank you, I am between jobs so to speak. About to move out of the house of the family I worked for. It was a live-in position for the past few years but their youngest daughter has finally started school and doesn’t come home until late when the mum is back too. So there is really no need for a nanny anymore.”

“So you are looking for work right now?”

“I am. Why? Do you need a babysitter?”, she joked.

He guffawed.

“Probably yes, if I keep having panic attacks and nervous breakdowns in public places. You were really wonderful taking care of me. – No, but seriously, I just so happen to be looking for a housekeeper. Someone who takes care of this,” his arm moved around in a vague circle, “when I am away. Who could run errands for me like mail pick-up, dry cleaning, do the laundry, the shopping, cook. It seems you would fit the bill pretty perfectly. And I promise you wouldn’t have to bottle-feed or nappy-change me. There is a small apartment with it’s own kitchen in the basement. You could move in if you wanted. It’d be nice to not be alone in this house, to know someone is there when I come back from wherever.”

His last sentence had been uttered with a note of sadness and Hannah realised that he felt horribly lonely.

“Harry, are you serious about this? You’ve only met me a few hours ago and although it was quite intense for us both we don’t know anything about each other.”

“I know, but I am a pretty good judge of character. And you strike me as a kind, honest and caring person, Hannah. And that’s really all I need to know. You could have left me there on the sidewalk, rushing home before the storm. But you didn’t. You could have walked out on me while I was asleep, Nicked a few items. Stolen my car. You didn’t. Instead you tidied my house, cooked, put the washing on. I think you’re fucking amazing and if you want the job then it’s yours. We can have a probation time if you want in case one of us wants out but, yeah, that’s it. This is what I’d like to offer you. And I’d pay whatever the last family paid you.”

He looked at her inquiringly.

“3.500,-.”

“Okay, 3.500,- pounds per week it is.”

Hannah spluttered her sip of wine across the table. “What the fuck, Harry? 3.500,- was not my weekly but my monthly income! You cannot pay me 14.000 pounds a month!! That’s an annual income of… almost 170.000. For a housekeeper!!!”

“And a chef. And a PA. So I think you deserve that. Possibly more.”

Hannah shook her head.

“What? You don’t want the job?” Harry looked disappointed.

“Of course I want the job. You’ve just made me an incredible offer. A very generous offer. And…” She exhaled and took a deep swig from her wine glass before making up her mind. “I will accept it.”

The sun broke out on Harry’s face.

“Under two conditions!”

“Shoot.”

“Firstly, we WILL have a probation period. 3 months I’d say.”

“Done. And secondly?”

“I don’t mean to be impertinent but I’ve been trying to figure out what you do for a living. Who you are?”

He smirked, dimples popping on his cheeks. “And what are your ideas so far?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re a banker or a dot.com genius. And I don’t think you’re a trustafarian or a royal either.”

He giggled. “What makes you think that?”

“Your attitude. The dress code.”

“Aha.”

“Somehow I also doubt that you have a normal 9-5 job.”

“Okay. So what’s the logical conclusion?”

Hannah looked at him, her eyes narrowing, slowly nodding while alternative possibilities swirled around in her head. Harry looked at her. Expectant. Secretly delighted. His gaze green and vivid, tongue caught between his teeth. There was a bit of a Brad Pitt thing going on around that white-teethed, sassy mouth. Combined with a young River Phoenix face. A bit of Jagger. And DiCaprio.

And then it hit her. “You’re either a rock star or an actor.”

Harry laughed, so loud and hard until he was crying with mirth. “Oh Hannah, this is too good. It’s fucking hilarious.”

“Oh god, I am totally wrong aren’t I? You ARE a banker with a royal pedigree. I’ve just made a bloody fool of myself.”

Harry shook his head, wiping tears off his cheeks. “I am gonna sound like a complete prick but you’re actually right. On both accounts. I am an actor. Well, if shooting one film qualifies for that.”

“One film? Film as in my dad’s Super8 camera or…?”

He hid his face in his hands. “More Hollywood blockbuster?!”

“Oh god.” Hannah was suddenly too nervous to continue. Hollywood. And he’d said she was right on both accounts. “So, that means you are also… a rock star??”

Harry peeked at her through his fingers, embarrassed. “Sort of. Yeah.”

“As in…?” She tried to think of someone. “Robbie Williams?”

“Pretty exactly like Robbie Williams if you mean that he came from a boyband and later did stadium tours as a solo artist.”

“You did a STADIUM TOUR???” Hannah tried very hard not to stare at him slack-mouthed.

He nodded. “I’ve been on tour for the past 11 months. 4 continents, 26 counties, 89 gigs. Up to 32.000 people in attendance each night.

“Oh. Bloody. Fucking. Hell!” It was Hannah’s turn to hide her face in her palms, blushing furiously. ”What’s your name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.”

***


End file.
